


endless loneliness

by boneslen



Category: A Way Out (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Flashbacks, Fluff, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mild Language, Sad Ending, Spoilers, They deserved better, Vincent Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boneslen/pseuds/boneslen
Summary: "You're one of the only people I like, Leo."For a moment, Leo's eyes narrowed at him, as if studying his face for any sign of deception or dishonesty. And while yes, Vincent had deftly fed Leo lies after lies, this was one thing he was being completely honest about. He meant it. With all his heart, Vincent meant it."Then you better keep me around," Leo finally answered, letting his face relax back into a calm expression.-What plagues Vincent the most isn't the guilt. It's the memories. Those hurt more than Vincent ever thought they would.
Relationships: Leo Caruso & Vincent Moretti, Leo Caruso/Vincent Moretti
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	endless loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> These two make me cry. This is a bit of an exploration into their relationship, with a focus on Vincent's internal struggle. Compliant with the Vincent ending.

A shooting range.

Vincent had been there more times than he could count, ever since his old man used to bring him when he just barely turned nine. Over the years, it grew from an intimidating place where Vincent felt out of place and uncomfortable to a second solitude. It became a place of peace for him. 

It was a simple indoor shooting range made of five targets, all with the dark silhouette of a man from the torso up and target circles painted on top. Vincent also hoped it would be a way out of his muddled mind.

"You resigning, Moretti?"

Drawn out of his thoughts, Vincent looked over to see Aaron Hicks, a fellow officer, reloading a small revolver. They'd worked together for years, becoming rather cordial, but not quite friends.

"Yeah."

Absentmindedly feeling the cool metal sting into his skin, Vincent loaded his own bullets into a pistol.

"Why?"

Vincent cocked the gun with a sharp click. He gave Aaron a tight grin, shook his head, and turned to face the target a few yards from him. He didn't want to discuss it right now. Perhaps Aaron would understand. Vincent didn't really care either way.

With steady hands, Vincent leveled the pistol to the faraway target. But Aaron's question rang in his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull, refusing to fade away.

_Why?_

Vincent's mouth tightened. With a squint, he fired. The bullet exploded out of the barrel with a sharp crackle, sending a fierce vibration throughout Vincent's solid arms.

"Nice shot."

Vincent looked over his shoulder.

Leo stood there, easily smiling at him with warm eyes. He still wore the same clothes they'd stolen from that old couple, but for some reason, they fit really well.

Vincent broke into a smile. He chuckled, glancing back to the hole in the dead center of the rectangular wooden sign.

"Well, it's a big target."

Leo approached, his steps light. "Yeah, but you hit the exact middle of the cow."

He was right. Vincent had shot at a rather dilapidated wooden sign sporting a painted cow and some faded words that probably used to state the name of the area they were in. They were quite literally in the middle of nowhere. After messily escaping the old couple's house, Vincent and Leo wandered about until they reached an abandoned gas station.

It was a nice area. Surrounded by overgrown grassy fields that stretched for miles, the lone building was somewhat of a relic. The blue sky was clear and beautiful with a light breeze that blew through the area, rustling Leo's hair and clothes as Vincent watched him.

Leo had taken a peek around, trying to search for anything useful. While Vincent, on the other hand, was doing target practice. It was quite a role reversal, but after spending so much time together, they couldn't help but be at least a little affected by one another and their antics.

"You're not afraid you'll attract attention, Mr. Rational Thinker?" Leo mused as he approached.

Vincent laughed. The nicknames just kept coming, all a variation of the same meaning. Vincent didn't mind though, he found nearly everything Leo said entertaining. And...Vincent always liked laughing with Leo. He never felt as light and carefree as he did with his literal partner in crime.

"Look around. There's no one here. And I wanted to try out this new pistol." Vincent tapped the side of the gun, drawing Leo's attention to it.

With gentle fingers, gentler than Vincent expected, Leo's hand touched Vincent's as he tugged the gun from his grip. Then, Leo aimed the pistol at the target, his face tightly drawn in deep concentration.

"I bet I can hit the cow in the head."

If Vincent wasn't so entranced by Leo's intense focus, he probably would've chuckled at that sentence.

But instead, Vincent's eyes were only on Leo. On Leo's dark eyes, narrowed in determination, that were framed by his long, curling eyelashes. On his mouth, drawn in a tight line, slightly quirked up, and on his broad shoulders that were stiff and tense, flexing against the light green shirt that seemed to strain against his body. Vincent just couldn't tear his eyes away.

Then, Leo squeezed the trigger.

The bullet flew through the air, piercing the cow's head dead center. Splinters of wood exploded from the impact, leaving a gaping, ragged hole in the wooden sign. Leo grinned, turning around to flaunt his success at Vincent.

"Not bad, right?"

Willing himself to remain calm and unaffected, Vincent only slightly smiled. "Congratulations. On getting lucky."

"Lucky?!"

It was always easy to rile Leo up. Vincent loved it.

"You're just jealous of my skills," Leo countered. He handed the pistol back, and Vincent softly took it, feeling the warmth remaining on the grip from Leo's tight hold. As Leo continued to ramble on with disgruntled jabs, Vincent gently wrapped his own hand around the gun's handle. In some soft, stupid way, it was almost like holding Leo's hand.

"And now you're not even listening to me."

Vincent looked up, amused to see an irritated frown on his partner's face. He'd never tire of looking at Leo. He'd never tire of doing anything with Leo.

"All you do is talk. Hard for me to listen all the time." Vincent walked away from the man, smiling to himself as Leo spluttered out an indignant response.

"All you do is, is listen...and-and shit!" Leo frowned at Vincent, but Vincent didn't even have to turn around to know the man wasn't actually upset. He could still hear the playfulness in his voice.

"Calm down," Vincent called back, tucking the gun away. "You know I don't mind your endless jabbering."

Rolling his eyes, Leo walked over to the cow sign. He studied it while grumbling under his breath.

As Vincent watched him, he found himself smiling for no reason at all. And just like that, in a simple moment, he knew. 

Leo's eyes flew back to Vincent's, his face still frowning with annoyance. "You're the worst, man."

"But the best shot," Vincent returned swiftly. 

"Oh yeah? Who hit the exact middle of that cow's head?"

Vincent hummed, leaning against the side of the station. He watched with attentive eyes as Leo meandered over to him. "I think it was a gust of wind."

"Oh, fuck you, Vincent. Thought we were friends." 

Laughing softly, Vincent decided to back down. "We are. You're one of the only people I like, Leo."

For a moment, Leo's eyes narrowed at him, as if studying his face for any sign of deception or dishonesty. And while yes, Vincent had deftly fed Leo lies after lies, this was one thing he was being completely honest about. He meant it. With all his heart, Vincent meant it. 

"Then you better keep me around," Leo finally answered, letting his face relax back into a calm expression.

With that, Leo headed inside the gas station to further investigate. Vincent watched him go, his chest tightening and stomach dropping as a sudden wave of remorse and anxiety numbly washed over him. 

And his heart, well, his heart was beating much faster for some reason he couldn't understand. 

"You alright, Moretti?"

Vincent's head snapped to the side.

Aaron was staring at him a few feet away, slight concern in his eyes.

Then, Vincent realized his arms were still raised in the very same position. He had only just taken a single shot—the first one.

Realizing he'd been sweating, Vincent dully nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what happened."

Aaron's gaze remained on Vincent for a moment longer.

"I get it, trauma can be a hell of a thing." Aaron tucked the sleek revolver into his side holster, trying to reassure Vincent with steady words. "If that's why you're leaving, I understand. We all do."

As Vincent shakily lowered his arms, he realized just how clammy his hands felt around the grip of the gun.

"I don't have trauma," Vincent replied coolly. "I was just lost in thought."

That was true, right? What was there to be traumatized about? Betraying his closest friend? Killing said friend?

It would a shitty self-pity party if Vincent actually had trauma after what had happened. He was the one that initiated everything; he caused it, furthered it, and then ended it. If anyone deserved to be physically and mentally traumatized, it was—

No. Vincent didn't want to think about it...him.

"Okay," Aaron warily answered. He nodded once more at Vincent before heading to the exit. "Guess I'll...see you around then."

"Yeah."

And then, Vincent was alone.

It wasn't anything new. Being alone. The truth was, ever since Vincent left the roof that dark night without his partner and other half, he'd been drowning in an endless loneliness. His heart had succumbed to a slow death, slowly breaking apart more and more with the passing second.

He missed Leo more than anything. More than he thought he would.

With heavy eyes, Vincent looked over to the target in the distance. The one that he'd shot only once before tumbling into the many memories that plagued him daily.

A single bullet hole was in the very middle of the target's torso, right in the center of the upper body.

Of course.

It was the only area of the body Vincent could shoot anymore, whether he wanted to or not. It was as if his brain was forever latched onto that one fatal area, and no matter how hard Vincent tried, he couldn't bring his hands to adjust the gun's direction. The bullet always seemed to fly there. It scarred him, taunted him. And like a curse, he couldn't escape it.

Vincent's eyes burned into the empty hole.

He hated it.


End file.
